When Peter and Christine Lucas go on a working vacation, an unusual bright blue dolphin helps them rescue a drowning boy. A nosey reporter tries to make a connection between Pete and the dolphin that only makes Chris wonder if it's true.

Where
the Drake Resort's private beach ended, the shoreline curved away
from the lodge in either direction to form an almost perfect circle,
which secluded the small cove from the nearby Florida Gulf. Trees
made up a small forest along one side of these shores and concealed a
number of paths that led to scenic campsites and picnic areas.

The
shade was a welcome relief after the intense heat of the beach.
Christine Lucas led her husband through the woods, and a continuous
breeze that passed through the branches created a natural form of air
conditioning. Pete really didn't mind the heavy burden of the
overstuffed picnic hamper, because he was occupied with the gorgeous
scenery that swayed ahead of him in her tank top and high cut shorts.
Chris's hair was pulled back in a single French braid. It peeked
out below her wide brimmed hat and hung halfway down her back. It
was rather stylish but he found more interest in the easy rhythm of
those perfect legs and her well rounded hips. She stopped to allow
him to catch up. It was hot, but an occasional breeze filtered
through the trees and helped to make their hike more bearable.

"How
are you doing?" She asked and glanced back at him and then at the
hamper. "I could take it for awhile."

"No,
it's okay," he said and set the basket down to relax his
stiffened muscles. He dried his damp forehead with the back of this
hand, and peered at the beach still visible through the trees. "Is
it much farther?"

"The
trail twists back toward the lodge just up ahead," she said and
continued to stride on down the path. "It comes out on a clearing
near the shore."

Pete
picked up the hamper with his other arm and followed her. The trail
did turn back and ended in an area that overlooked a scenic view of
the cove. Voices traveled with ease over the open water from the
nearby beach and were accentuated by an occasional shriek of delight
from a group of children at play with a colorful inflated ball at one
end of the beach area.

"This
is nice. Very nice," he said and placed the hamper on the picnic
table someone had been so nice to put there. He looked around and
took in his surroundings. "Chris, you are a sly one. This is
perfect." He watched her spread out a table cloth and helped her
unpack their late lunch.

"Are
you sure?" She asked. "When I read your notes, I thought this is
what you had in mind."

He
nodded in appreciation of his wife's insight and let his eyes rove
over the surrounding paradise. "I'll open my first chapter,
right here. It all fits in nicely. Thanks, hon," he said and gave
her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

He
stood and took in the beauty of the overlook when the aroma of fried
chicken and hot biscuits gained his attention. He filled two glasses
with iced lemonade. Chris opened a sealed container filled with
carrots, celery, fresh broccoli and cauliflower. Another crisper
contained sliced tomatoes.

Pete
looked over the contents and his face turned into a light frown.
"So, where's the olives?" He asked.

"Right
here, silly," she said and lifted two jars out of the basket. "You
didn't want all the veggies tasting like olives, did you?" She
set them on the table. "I brought some pickles, too."

Their
repast proceeded to last for about an hour. It had been quite awhile
since their early morning breakfast. Pete lost no time when he found
a cozy place to stretch out under a tree. He felt himself relax and
watched Chris pack the leftovers back into the hamper. It was no
surprise when she drew out her artist's sketch pad and his note
book. Normally, he would use his laptop to make notations on his
next novel, but it would've been rather bulky to tote through the
woods along with the picnic hamper.

"Care
to take some on-the-spot notations?" She asked and handed him his
pen with exaggerated casualness.

"Only
if you agree to join me," he said by way of invitation and let his
gaze travel out and over the cove. "So, what composition from here
sparks your interest?"

"I
don't know," she said and sat down beside him on the sandy soil.
""there's a beautiful view of the gulf, but the beach would
make an interesting composition, too. I could sketch several
different subjects from right here." She released a contented
sigh.

Pete
nodded and said, "I honestly wish we could take a real vacation,
sometime. You know. Just leave the business at home and be able to
enjoy ourselves with no outside pressure from our jobs or our
bosses."

Chris
smiled and said, "You don't hear me complaining, do you? I knew
when I married you that our professions might intrude on our leisure
time, but I wouldn't want to be anywhere else at this moment than
right her with you."

He
chuckled and let his arm slip around her smooth, soft shoulders. If
only it was that easy to leave all their worries behind. He gave her
a gentle hug and kissed her cheek. It felt so nice to have her
snuggled against him in a place that was so nice and far away from
their everyday lives.

His
pen was poised over the notebook balanced on his lap when his gaze
was drawn to the laughter of the children in the water just out and
to one side of the beach. He grinned at their game, and it wasn't
hard to figure out. From what he could see, the six children were
divided into two teams and playing some kind of keep away game with a
bright and colorful inflated ball.

One
of the girls threw the ball farther out into the water than she had
intended, and Pete felt his body tense up when one of the smaller
boys swam after it. He was sure the child had no idea he was in deep
water. Would he have enough strength to make it back? The boy
reached the ball and did a quick bob under the water. He shook his
head and choked on a mouthful of brine. Pete felt the horror of the
situation when the boy made a futile attempt to stroke back to the
shallows.

Chris
looked up from her sketchpad and took note of the taut worry on his
face. "Peter? What is it?" She asked before her gaze searched
in the direction of his tension to see the boy. "Oh, dear God."
Her tone was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"The
lifeguard isn't even looking in their direction," Pete said and
stood up with Chris at his side. "I don't think he can see them,
since they're outside the actual beach area. We don't have much
time. I better go after him while you call 911 and return to the
lodge." She glanced at the remains of their picnic spread out
before them. Don't worry about our things. We have to move before
it's too late." He pulled her close and kissed her inviting lips
before he bolted up the path.

Chris
watched him sprint away and punched 911 out on her cell. The call
took only a few minutes. She gave one last look at their belongings
before she ran after her husband and was startled to discover he'd
gained such a long head start.

She
began to rate her pace, since she couldn't run out of steam before
she reached the lodge. Her legs ached by the time she came out of
the woods, and the sun that glared off the white hot sand of the
beach blinded her for a moment or two after the comparative darkness
of the woods.

The
heat struck her back without mercy, and sweat trickled down and
between her shoulder blades. The resort's sunbathers released
surprised and angry shouts when her feet stung them with flying sand.
She reached the door to the lodge and excused herself when she
collided with a man and a woman on their way out.

"Mr.
Drake," she said between ragged breaths.

The
resort's manager looked up from behind the counter in surprise.
"Mrs. Lucas," he said, "Are you all right?"

"I'm
fine, thank you," she said with a weak grin, "but there's been
an accident. Some kids were playing just out of sight of the beach,
and one of them swam out too far to swim back. Pete has already gone
after him, and an ambulance should be here at any time."

The
man thanked her, and she returned to the beach.

A
crowd had gathered near the water where the children had played not
long ago. They were not to be seen, now, absorbed into the crowd
with their concerned parents. It was a given that they had to be
shocked at what had happened to their friend.

Chris
used caution to shoulder her way through the crowd until she spied
Pete where he kneeled over a small boy performing CPR. The child
looked so fragile where he lay near the water, and his wet swim
trunks only accentuated the slenderness of his body. She felt a
light finger tap her on the back and turned around to see a young
woman who stood behind her.

"Pardon
me," she said, "but what happened?"

Chris
looked her over and guessed the woman to be about twenty-five. She
wore a flower printed bikini with a towel thrown about her shoulders.

"A
young boy swam out too far and into the deeper water," Chris said
soberly. "He would probably have drowned if my husband hadn't
watched it happen and gone after him. I've already called for an
ambulance, which should be here very soon."

The
woman's face paled when she asked, "A little boy? About six
years old?" Her eyes were drawn to Pete where he continued to work
over the child. "Oh, my God!" She shrieked. "My baby!"

Chris
took a firm grip on the woman's shoulders to keep her from
disturbing Pete's concentration on the boy and was amazed at how
much strength heightened emotions could give someone. "Hey take it
easy," she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. "Everything
is under control. Trust me. Pete knows what he's doing." The
woman fought for only a few minutes more before she began to relax
under Chris's fingers. "May I ask your name?"

She
remained silent with her attention riveted to her unconscious son
before she said, "Jill. Jill Howard." She took in a long,
ragged breath. "Timmy is all I have."

Chris
gave her a friendly grin and said, "Glad to know you, Jill. I'm
Christine Lucas." It was more than obvious that Jill was very
distraught with what had happened to her son, but Chris couldn't
help but wonder why she hadn't known, until just a few short
moments ago, what had happened to her son?

Jill
turned under Chris's hand and took a quick glance through the
throng behind them. "You said you called an ambulance?" She
asked.

"Yes,"
Chris said. "It should be here, soon, and everything should be
fine. Pete has been trained for emergencies like this one. Your son
couldn't be in better hands."

They
watched tensely while Pete labored over the boy, and most of the
curious spectators refused to leave and were captivated by this real
life drama. Chris and Jill were on the edge of this crowd and stood
the closest to Pete and Timmy when Chris overheard someone say,
"Yeah, I did see the dolphin bring the kid in. It was the most
fantastic thing I've ever seen."

She
shot a quick look at Jill and was relieved the woman hadn't heard
the man's tasteless remark.

"As
soon as the kid was beached, he just took off back out toward the
gulf," the man said. "It couldn't have been more than ten
minutes later when this guy showed up and started CPR."

The
other half of the conversation had a gruffer, inquisitive tone that
asked, "By any chance, did you happen to notice anything unusual
about this dolphin, besides that he rescued the boy?"

"Yeah,
now that you mention it," the first voice said. "He looked like
any other dolphin you'd see anywhere except his skin seemed to
shine a bright, luminous blue."

A
siren preceded the flashing of lights from behind the crowd and drew
everyone, at least for a little while, away from the accident. Chris
watched the large white vehicle with the orange and blue emblems make
its way down the path cleared by the resort's guests before it
stopped not far from Pete and the boy. Pete helped Timmy roll onto
his side and cough up the water trapped in his lungs. The boy began
to breathe without assistance.

Two
medics climbed out of the ambulance and knelt beside them. Chris was
too far away to hear what was said but could see her husband answer
them while they checked the boy over. Jill stepped forward to
comfort her son and let them know she was Timmy's mother. At that
time, Chris decided it was okay to join them, too.

"It's
all right," Pete said to the medics. "This is my wife,
Christine. She's the one who made the call."

One
of the medics turned to shake her hand and said, "It's a pleasure
to meet you, ma'am. You and your husband undoubtedly saved this
young man's life."

She
and Pete exchanged humbled glances when she heard Pete say, "We
just did what had to be done. Nothing more, nothing less."

The
other medic was with Jill. "Your son seems to be out of danger,
Mrs. Howard," he said, "but it would be advisable to have him
taken to the hospital and checked out."

Jill
held back an emotional sob and just nodded before she turned toward
her son's rescuers. She clasped Pete's hand, and Chris could see
the woman's hand tremble in his. "May God bless you, Mr. Lucas,"
she said and gave Chris an emotional hug. "I'll never forget
what you and your husband did this day."

"Mom?"
The small, weak voice came from Jill's side.

"I'm
right here, darling," she said. "Everything's going to be
fine." She stood by the stretcher and smoothed the hair on his
forehead. They lifted the boy into the ambulance, and Jill stepped
in beside him. The doors closed, the medics climbed into the cab,
and the flashing lights accompanied the ambulance back to the main
highway.

Chris
released her tension in a deep sigh and felt the excitement drain
away from her body. It was hard to realize how fast the whole
situation had taken place. She was thankful for Pete's gentle hand
on her shoulder, and she gave it a soft caress.

"Thank
God everything worked out okay," she said.

"Amen,"
he said in total agreement. "It sure makes you wonder about some
people, though."

She
turned to gaze at him with curiosity. "What do you mean?" She
asked.

"Oh,
why some people don't keep a closer watch over their own children,"
he said. "Jill didn't even know Timmy was in trouble, and yet
she claims he's her entire world. I'd also like to know where
the boy's father was, though Jill may be divorced."

"I
couldn't really say why, but I have a feeling this won't happen,
again, anytime soon," she said.

Once
again, Chris heard the voice that had been asking about the dolphin
startle her from right behind her. "Mr. Peter Lucas?" It asked.

She
and Pete turned to face a husky built man who stood an inch or two
over six feet tall. For some reason, his clothing didn't hang
right on him, and he seemed more bothered than most of the resort's
clients from the heat and humidity.

"My
name's John Phillips, and I'm with the New York Science
Monitor," he said and showed them his press credentials. "I'd
like to ask you a few questions?"

The
reporter's pushy attitude made it sound like a command and Chris
could see Pete's suspicions had been aroused. The man's manner
struck her like that of a leach once he was after something. She
felt her skin crawl and could see Pete was having similar thoughts
and wished the man would just leave them alone.

"So,
just what do you want, Mr. Phillips?" Pete asked.

His
abrupt and icy reception surprised Chris, and she watched the
reporter ignore the very clear warning in Pete's tone.

"I've
had two eyewitnesses report about a dolphin bringing the Howard boy
to shore before you arrived on the scene," Phillips said. "Is
this so, and did you see the dolphin, yourself?"

Pete
gazed for a few long moments across the cove to the approximate area
where their picnic had ended so suddenly. "I was running along one
of the trails along the edge of the woods, over there, and headed for
the closest spot to swim for the boy. It was then that I noticed the
dolphin had already reached him and was buoying him toward shore. I
estimated where Timmy would be brought in and tried to be there once
he reached shore."

Phillips
nodded and scanned the indicated shoreline with his eyes. "Is it
true you worked for a marine mammal rescue service that also rescued
abused dolphins?"

Pete
shot him a cautious glare and asked, "How do you know that?"

He
shrugged and said, "I have my sources. Would you care to answer my
question?"

Chris
watched them anxiously and prayed that Pete would just answer the man
so they could be rid of him.

"I
worked with Dr. David Conners, a marine biologist in charge of the
service, while I was in college as a part time job and to help me
with my biology minor," Pete said.

"My
witnesses had an unusual description of this dolphin, Mr. Lucas,"
Phillips said and studied Pete closely. "They said his hide shown
almost of a luminosity all its own. The color was a bright, almost
metallic, blue. In your own opinion, is this possible?"

Pete
scowled at the reporter with restrained anger before turning it onto
his wife. "Come on, Christine. We need to pick up our things at
our interrupted picnic."

Apprehensive,
she studied Pete's serious, stubborn attitude before she stared at
the determined reporter. Was Pete hiding something, and if so, why?

"Mr.
Lucas. Would you mind making a comment on my last question?"
Phillips asked with a satisfied smirk.

She
felt his light but firm hand grip her arm, and he tried, once more,
to dismiss the man. "Obviously, it's possible if other people
saw it."

A
wide grin swept the newsman's face, and Chris was sure he enjoyed
making one final thrust when he said, "Could you tell me what color
the dolphin appeared to you?"

A
quiet explosion shattered the last of Pete's self control, and
Chris could tell he would like nothing better than to introduce the
man's jaw to his fist. His fury simmered dangerously when he
snapped, "It was blue. Bright, iridescent blue."

He
turned around sharply, and Chris followed him. She glanced one last
time at her husband's irritant and felt an ice cold shiver in the
early evening sun. The reporter's smug smile revealed an enjoyment
that was frightening.

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